The Show Will Go On, Ginerva
by lilleangel
Summary: Harry knows that he and Ginny are meant to be. But will she realise it before it is too late and they both move on? Post-DH Canon
1. Chairs, Laundry, and an Occasional Hill

**Disclaimer: ****Gee lady, do you own Harry Potter.**

**Of course I do. I'm blonde, British, and under ****the of**** 50. Like there's only one of me.**

**A/N This story is starts about three months after the Battle of Hogwarts and will be canon to the books, including J.K. Rowling's post-DH interviews. Please be kind. And review. Remember, always reveiew.**

". . .and there he was, stuck behind the glass!"

The other three burst out laughing (with Ron's guffaws the most distinguishable) and Harry chuckled fondly at the memory. How old had been back then? Nine? Ten? It all seemed an age away, before he had even realised he was a wizard. Before the happiest years of his life, granted they involved at least ten near death experiences. Before he had a family.

He glanced around the most important people in his world. Ron, who was sitting next to him in a rickety wooden chair, had been his best friend ever since that first ride on the Hogwarts Express. His bright red hair was considerably shorter than the previous months after finally relenting to his mother's pleas to cut it last week and was now taller than any of the Weasley brothers, and a head above Harry.

Perched quite happily on his lap was Hermione, her usual bush tamed back into a smooth plait that ran down her back. She was wiping tears from her eyes with hand, while the other was clinging to Ron's shirt. As had been usual since the days three twelve year olds sat in the library, a voluminous, dusty book was open in front of her, its tea-coloured pages gently wafting what seemed like a breeze, though there were no windows.

Opposite Harry was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Her gloriously fiery hair curved gently around her pale face, her luxurious chocolate eyes glowing with humour. No, he couldn't think like that. She was Ginny, his good friend and best friend's sister. Since he had returned from his yearlong search, she had yet to make it clear whether they were an item or not. For now he was content with just being a member of this laughing, gleeful group.

However, Hermione's laughter stopped short as the pages of the book firmly decided on a place. Still gripping Ron, she leant over the table to investigate. A look of comprehension dawned on her face and she sprang from the lap she was sitting in, causing Ron to curl up in pain. Realising she was still holding on to him, and that she had bashed into an unpleasant face, she gasped in horror and her arms swept round his curved shape murmuring comforting words under her breath. Harry and Ginny exchanged a look of disgust across the table before each getting quickly embarrassed and averting their eyes.

Ron sat back up straight and kissed Hermione lightly on the lips just as she disapparated away leaving the man with a dim-witted grin on his face, his eyes half-closed.

"Don't you just love love?" The faces of the two people next to him both flushed a deep crimson, and quickly became uncomfortable. Yet Ron continued, not realising his error, "I mean, liking someone is great and all. But when you have that one person beside you forever, I wouldn't give it up for anything. What a mistake that would be!" he chuckled. But his laughs grew fewer and far between as his eyes darted to his best friend and sister. The tips of his ears glowed red and he slipped down into his chair.

All three seemed to find one interesting stain or another on the orange tiles of the kitchen floor, and gazed intently at it. Several minutes passed remaining in silence until a resounding shriek filled the house, causing all six hands to jump to their respective ears.

"RONALD WEASLEY! ARE YOU STILL IN THIS HOUSE? YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE SHOP HALF AN HOUR AGO. YOU CANNOT LEAVE GEORGE ALONE!"

Ron grimaced at the sound of his name. Since Fred's death, Mrs. Weasley had become overly concerned about the remaining twin, not allowing him to be alone for a second. Though he was obviously down, he was hardly a suicide threat with the constant longing to keep his brother alive for as long as possible. But he never complained, know full well that his mother needed to pour concern into him or she would simply be overcome with grief. Harry admired him for this and allowed the man off on his own when it was his turn on the watch. Ron however had really gotten himself immersed in the shop and enjoyed his new role as assistant there.

And he only too readily excused himself from the table, disapparating with a loud crack. Harry's eyes were fixed downwards, but Ginny was absent-mindedly staring at the spot where, moments ago, her brother had stood, a bemused expression on her face. An uneasy stillness fell between the pair as they each shifted in their seat several times.

He was sick of this. Every time they were left alone in a room together, they quietly mulled in their past until one of them thought it had been long enough to excuse themselves without being rude. But this time would be different.

"So . . . he began tentatively, treading carefully around anything that might cause offence, "What are you planning on doing after the summer?" Ginny's head snapped towards him, startled by the sudden addressing. She blinked at him, trying to figure out whether or not she had imaged it. He smiled warmly and waited for her to reply.

"Well, erm," she stammered, trying to gather her mind together, "I guess…Honestly? I'm not sure. I mean, I suppose I'll go back to Hogwarts. Bill says the repairs are almost finished and everything. If I tried and do anything else, I guarantee Mum will have my guts for garters." She giggled at this last thought and relief filled Harry. This could yet turn into a normal conversation between human beings.

"What about Quidditch? Didn't you once say that you'd like to play on the Holyhead Harpies?" Ginny smiled fondly at him, remembering the exact time she had said it. It was a glorious summer's day and Harry had dragged her away from her revision. And they just sat by the lake, under their beech tree, without a care in the world. That was also the day he had carved their names into the tree.

She looked at him, noticing a blush creeping up his cheeks. Apparently, he remembered that day too. Her face screwed up in thought. Since her fifth year, she hadn't really thought about Quidditch as a proffesion.

"But how am I going to get on the team?" she scoffed, "They hold tryouts like once every decade and even that's only in the event of pregnancy or death. No, maybe I should consider a position at the Ministry."

But Harry simply grinned mischievously in return. "I'm sure I could wrangle you a place." At first, Ginny couldn't comprehend what he was saying. How could he, Harry Potter. . . of course! He was Harry Potter. He could use his fame to get anything he wanted. But that very action was the thing he despised doing most. He hated being treated differently, especially with charity. Yet he would exercise this without precaution for her sake? A reflex caused her hand to shoot out and grab his, just as he was about to rise.

As soon as they touched, he reached for his wand and pointed it at her throat, not even thinking about his action. She cried out in fear, crawling back into her chair. And that was when he saw. He had pulled out his wand on her, Ginny, the love of his life. His arm went limp, dropping the weapon onto the floor, and walked over to the whimpering girl.

"Ginny," he ventured, his hand wavering in the air above her, deciding whether or not to embrace her.

"No, Harry," she snarled, tears rolling down her face, "Is this how it is going to be forever? You loving me then hurting me when you get bored? Well I'm sick of it Harry James Potter. I'm sick of it, and I'm sick of you!"

She made to stand up, but his large frame blocked her. "Please Gin, let me explain. I just. . ." but she stopped him, a finger on his lips.

"I can't do this anymore. Neither of us can. It just hurts too much. Maybe it would be better if we both moved on."

Harry felt paralysed, the very words he had been dreading since May hitting him hard in the gut. Ginny took this opportunity to slip away, out of the kitchen tears still rolling down her cheeks. There was a small scuffle outside the door, then a thudding up the stairs and finally the kitchen door swung open. But he didn't hear any of these noises. His whole world had crashed down right in front of his eyes. A reflex. Two simple reflexes had triggered the collapse of the one thing he held dear.

"Now really. What could have gotten the girl into such a state? Do either of you kids know. . ." Mrs. Weasley's clucking stopped short when she took in the scene before her. Harry, kneeling on the floor, obviously still in shock, his wand discarded on the other side of the table. The woman sighed. Young love. She bustled over to the sink, laundry basket balanced on her hip.

"_Operor__ induviae_," she murmured, waving her wand above the dirty clothes. Turning around, she noticed Harry was still on the floor, his eyes not moving from the chair in front of him. She tutted and swept around him, gently placing her hand on his arm. She had learnt over the past few months to be careful with sudden contact, after quite a few near misses the rest of the family had had.

"Come on dear, you'll catch pneumonia if you stay on the floor." She lifted him up (he was quite light. Obviously hasn't been eating enough) and guided him to the chair. Talking to him would be no use. At least her advice anyway. She waved her wand yet again and a stack of toast floated over from the counter and landed squarely in front of him. "Eat up boy. You're all skin and bones!"

Harry, who only just seemed to have noticed he was back in his chair, miserably lifted up a slice and began chewing with such forlorn; it almost broke the old woman's heart. He didn't acknowledge her exit from the room, or even compliment the breakfast with a enthusiasm as per usual. It all tasted like dirt anyway. Even with generous servings of jam streaked across. The door swung open for a fourth time, revealing a hot and bothered Mrs. Weasley dragging Hermione.

"Mrs. Weasley, what's wrong?" the girl panted her hair slowly frizzing its way back out of the plait. She followed the woman's pointed glance across the room, to where Harry sat slumped, no longer bothering to consume the breakfast in front of him. Her eyebrows knitted together in concern. She nodded towards Mrs. Weasley, who hastily left, and sat calmly in her chair. She allowed Harry to adjust to her presence, and let him be the first to speak.

"I pulled my wand out on her again, Hermione. She just held my hand and I pulled it out! I had it right at her throat. It would have been so easy, y'know. Just one flick and I could have broken her neck. You should have seen the look of fear in her eyes. She told me she had enough and stormed out. I can't believe it's over, Hermione. I won't believe it."

Hermione nodded reassuringly and patted his leg. "Well maybe if you just give her time," she started.

"Time? She's had time! 3 months of it! It's August!" he yelled. But Hermione didn't flinch. She was used to his temper and stared him down. His breathing slowed and she waited patiently until he was calm again before talking.

"What I meant, Harry, was that you should give her time and space. Let her move on and experiment with others. She'll eventually realise it's you that she's meant to be with. Befriend her. Take it slow. She still hasn't forgiven you for leaving her just yet."

"Time and space? I'll give her the whole damn continuum if that's what'll take to make her love me again."

"Good. You need to wait. As for loving you, I don't think she's ever stopped. Just let her realise it first. Now if you'll excuse me," she rose, pushing back the chair and nudging Harry's plate in front of him, "I have some important research for SPEW to be getting on with." She disapparated and left a slightly more optimistic Harry behind.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHP

A week passed and the atmosphere between Harry and Ginny seemed to have cleared. At first she made a point of, whenever passing on the stairs, to knock into his shoulder and catch him by surprise. By the third day, this had turned to a brief nod, and now she smiled happily and greeted him politely. Their progress was monitored by Hermione, who watched like a hawk from behind her book. Ron on the other hand, barely noticed the change, only asking Ginny what was up when one of her shoulder bumps caused Harry to fall back into him, almost knocking all three down the stairs.

On this Saturday, three days before Ginny came of age, Harry's patience was growing weak. He had been in a mood all day and lashed out quite harshly at Percy when he merely requested the butter. Not wanting to cause any more harm to the family (Bill could still not stand up straight for more than thirty seconds after being targeted with the jelly-legs jinx,) Harry wandered into the garden. It was a pleasantly warm evening and the setting sun washed the entire landscaped blood red. He walked around for a while before finding what he was looking for. A weeping willow, whose branches trailed gracefully into the pond causing just a slight ripple here and there. He slid down the trunk and landed on the roots remembering happier days to try and calm himself. But of course, these thoughts always led back to Ginny.

He was disturbed from his quiet reverie by a small noise. He glanced up to see Ginny standing over him, clearing her throat. Her hair shone brilliantly in the sun as it cascaded down her shoulders. He liked it loose. Not a word passed between the two, and she simply sat beside him, crossing her legs. She began to pick at the daisies surrounding them while Harry watched on with interest. Her dainty hands craftily formed shapes from the flowers and a chain was quickly built.

"So what do you want to do after the summer?" she asked, continuing as if their conversation the week before had never been interrupted, "Are you going back to Hogwarts?" He continued studying her work before replying, watching her fingers easily interlace the knots.

"Well, I still want to be an Auror. I don't think I could ever rest with Death Eaters out there." Ginny nodded with understanding, but allowed him to continue.

"I don't think I could ever return to Hogwarts. Not live there anyway. Too much has happened for anything to be pleasant anymore. It was my home, yes, and I have some happy memories there. The happiest actually. But loads of bad ones too. I have a feeling that if I return there, I'll just attract more trouble, and I don't want my entire school life to read like some depressing novel with my as an angsty hero now do I?"

Ginny grinned, "No doubt it will though." Harry laughed and rested his head against the tree.

"Yeah. Your dad did say something about Rita Skeeter having a biography in the pipeline. Oh well," he sighed. "Do you remember that singing cupid you sent to me?" Harry asked, full well-aware she did. The girl buried her face in her hands with shame, though he could still see a smile playing at her lips.

"How about the singing get well soon card?" she giggled, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Now that was annoying. I think I kept it under the fruit bowl."

"Huh. Well then, I'm now offended," she teased.

"Oh yeah?" he taunted.

"Yeah."

He suddenly pounced on her and began tickling with all his might, causing her to squirm and toss beneath him. She threw him off and returned the favour. This match continued as they rolled down the hill, the blades of grass scratching at their necks. Finally, they landed in a heap at the bottom, laughing aloud, more carefree than either had been since the beginning of the war, and those beautiful days spent together. The laughing eased up, leaving them silent, Harry perched atop Ginny, staring down into her stunning brown eyes.

Very slowly, he leant down so his face was inches from hers, his breathing getting heavier and heavier. She searched his face anxiously, seeking a clue to his feelings. Slowly, and ever so gently, his lips touched hers, a soft kiss landing on her unaware mouth. She looked up at him in shock before kissing back, deepening it this time. This session lasted for about a minute before Ginny pulled away, a look in her eye. A new one, it was different. It was bad.

"Harry, I can't do this, I can't," she insisted, while he continued to pepper her with kisses. She moaned slightly.

"Oh, Harry. Harry. STOP!" The last word was yelled with such ferocity that he stumbled back.

"Right," he said, "Right. I'm sorry. I guess I got a bit carried away." He clambered off her and sat on the grass, staring ashamedly at his hands. She sat up too, adjusting her top and running her fingers through her hair a few times.

"Erm, Gin?" Harry murmured.

"Yeah?"

"Doyouwanttogooutsometime?" he stammered, running his words together.

"What?

He calmed himself and began again, more slowly this time.

"Do want to go out sometime? With me? Like, on a date? You know, after your birthday and everything?"

A pained expression passed over Ginny's face. "Oh, Harry," she sighed, shaking her head.

"Right. I mean, why would you? Stupid of me to ask really," he babbled to himself, and dismissed the question, though she could see hurt in his eyes.

"It's not like that Harry, it's just…"

"Yeah?" Harry encouraged, his face growing darker by the second.

"I have a boyfriend."

**A/****N ****Muwahahaha****. I bet the suspense is killing you. ****Or not whatever.**** I like ****cliffhangers****. Well, I hate reading them, but you ****gotta**** love writing ****them :P****Anywhos****, review ****pleasies**** and I will give you virtual cake. ****The best part about it?**** Virtual ****calories :D**


	2. Bruise, Balloons and an Expensive Broach

**Disclaimer: Geez, if I owned the universe that is ****Harry,**** do you think I would have ever gotten Ron and Hermione together? Nope. It's just wrong, I tell you. ****Erm****, back to the point.**** Me, Harry, ****nope :D**

"A… boyfriend?" Harry choked out this last word with extreme difficulty, frowning into the grass. Ginny nodded apprehensively.

"How long?"

"About a month."

Harry's face adopted a dazed expression as he looked over the hills. The sun had rolled down and the sky was transformed into a pool of ink. He looked across at Ginny. She obviously wasn't enjoying this moment, and her face was thoughtful. That kiss they had just shared moments ago. . .did that mean nothing to her? He felt anger surge through him, but instead of leaving his insides burning to lash out it was a cold, sharp stab. It was jealousy.

"Harry, I could just," Ginny began, her face glowing with optimism.

"No, no," he scoffed in return, standing up and wiping grass from his grubby jeans. "You just keep right on going with your little boyfriend. I don't mind. Not like I still love you or anything." He turned to leave, hearing a sharp intake of breath behind him. Then, quiet.

The calm before the storm.

"Excuse me, Mr. Potter," the fiery redhead yelled, the flushing of her ears visible, even in the darkness. "I was going to say that maybe, I could break up with him. But if you really don't care, I guess it won't bother anyone, now will it?"

Harry was never one to back down in a fight. He pivoted round to stare the girl straight in the eye. Despite the fact her head only barely reached his chin, he was suddenly struck by how big a creature she was.

"Oh, go right ahead. He's obviously important to you. Not like the man who saved the wizarding world."

"Ahhh!" She screamed exasperatedly, "You are such a big-headed, obnoxious little boy. If you were a man, you would have fought for me. But no, you're just going to sit there and watch me run into the arms of another. Well, if that's the way you want it, fine!"

"Fine!"

She growled and stormed off towards The Burrow. If he had only run after her, begged her forgiveness, confessed his undying love, then they would be together. But he was riled up, and no-one had ever taught him to control his own temper.

"I hope you're both happy together!" he cried at the retreating silhouette. She stopped in her tracks and paused for a moment, then turned on her heel and ran towards him. Harry barely had time to prepare himself when SMACK! Her fist rammed into his nose, clean and hard. Causing him to stumble onto the ground and watch her stamp away, head held high. His eyes followed her figure until a dull thudding in his head broke his concentration. Instinctively, his hand went up to his scar, but it lay peacefully on his forehead, just a dormant pink bolt. He realised it was where Ginny had struck him, so he gently pressed on his nose, and swore. It defiantly felt broken. A man's life expectancy would probably be higher if he didn't piss off a girl who has had six brothers to teach her how to punch.

Pulling himself of the ground for the second time, Harry wandered aimlessly in general direction Ginny had left in, hoping he might end up at The Burrow. Either that, or he was walking in the complete opposite direction (his head was pounding and he felt quite dizzy) and might end up at Luna's. He could imagine her scuttling about cursing the Gingle Faeries or some similar variety. Weren't they the ones who crept up on unsuspecting young men? There was always a chance he would end up in the Muggle village of Ottery St. Catchpole. It was a Saturday night, hardly unusual for a man to be bleeding excessively from his nose.

He continued to follow his feet, only looking up when he could hear the buzzing of several voices. There, in front of him was a crowd of red-heads, all dressed in their pyjamas, looking down on him with mixtures of concern and amusement. Great. He had just been humiliated in front of the entire Weasley family. There was silence as every member looked him up and down, studying his bedraggled appearance before Ron chuckled.

"Mate, did no-one ever teach you not to mess with a Weasley woman?"

The rest of the group all burst out in laughter, even Mrs. Weasley bedecked in a pink, fluffy robe. She was wiping the tears from her face while trying to sound sympathetic, "Come on dear," she gulped, desperately trying to swallow the laughter, "Let's get you inside and cleaned up."

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

The next morning, Mrs. Weasley burst into the bedroom Harry and Ron shared, opening the curtains with a wave of her wand. She knelt beside Harry and gently shook his arm.

"Come on, Harry dear. Time for breakfast."

He mumbled incoherently in reply, but rose anyway, just in time to see her pull the cover of Ron and yell at him to get up. She stalked out the door leaving him bare on the bed. Instead of waking, he just turned over and fresh snores sounded from under his pillow.

"Erm, Ron?" Harry said, "We kinda have to get up." More snores. "I think breakfast's ready." On the word breakfast, Ron sprang out of bed enthusiastically and was halfway down the stairs before Harry had realised what was going on. The same routine every morning. So he just descended the flights of stairs at his own pace, only stopping when he passed the mirror in the hallway.

"What on earth happened to you?" It barked as he was passing. He halted for a moment then retraced his steps, and jumped back at his reflection. His hair lay in its normal state, and he doubted combing it would help. But on the side of his nose, was a great big bruise, purple on his bridge, but was a turning a nasty shade of yellow around the edges.

He shook his head in despair and clambered into the kitchen. The room went still as he entered and eight pairs of eyes followed him as he grabbed a plate. When he sat down, the usual babble started up again and he took up his old hobby of listening in to the conversations that surrounded him. At the opposite end, Bill, Percy and Arthur were discussing the reparations at the Interim Ministry, "Kingsley was just saying that all training courses have been shortened to a year. There was an alarming amount of. . ."

Beside him, Charlie and Ron were discussing the riot at last week's Chudley Cannons game. "Twenty people hit with Stinging Hexes. Red boils all over the place. It was quite unsightly." Ron was laughing excitably. He and Harry had been to that game for Harry's birthday, though he failed to mention, on Harry's request, that it was actually a sighting of The-Boy-Who-Lived-The-Chosen-One-Our-Saviour that had started it all.

Charlie was nodding along, laughing at the appropriate places, while scrutinising Harry. "Speaking of unsightly," he grinned, "I feel congratulations are in order, Ginny. I haven't seen a bruise that good since Bill flirted with that muggle's wife."

Ginny was staring down into her cereal, her hair acting as a curtain between her and the rest of the table, but a grin was clearly lighting her face. Mrs. Weasley was still bustling around the kitchen, piling mountains of food in front of Harry until he relented and began to eat. Opposite him, Arthur was clearing his throat until everyone had quietened and turned towards him.

"We were thinking about having a big trip to Diagon Alley today. Minerva said Hogwarts is ready and anyone who didn't complete their seventh year can return, so I guess you four," he gestured to the youngest, "can get all your school supplies." He beamed round at them, as if expecting everyone to burst into rounds of cheering. The only one who showed any enthusiasm was Hermione, who immediately conjured a scrap of parchment and a quill, and began writing down endless lists. However, Ron, Ginny and Harry all shifted uncomfortably in their seats, none of them wanting to be the first to speak up. Harry took a deep breath and spoke first.

"I'm, er… I'm not going back to Hogwarts."

There was a clatter of cutlery and breaking plates when Mrs. Weasley dropped the load she was carrying. Ron and Ginny looked at him sharply, admiring his courage, yet pitying his foolishness. Arthur's grin fell and Bill and Charlie's mouths hung open. Hermione was fuming, her mouth pursed, quill raised in a threatening gesture. George, on the other hand, was laughing his head off, more cheerful than anyone had ever seen him since Fred's death.

Mrs Weasley dumped the last plate she was holding harshly on the table. "I suppose I can't make you," she said calmly, though everything in her expression suggested otherwise. Ron's breathing became shallow. It was now or never.

"Neither am I, Mum."

This caused uproar. Both Hermione and Molly rose and rounded on him.

"Your NEWTs Ron? What are you going to. . ."

"I don't believe it. You're only eighteen. . ."

". . .decent job. . ."

". . .raise a family. . ."

". . .education is important. . ."

". . .can't just live here forever. . ."

Soon their torrent of scolds became one, and they finished one another's sentences. In the midst of all this, Ginny piped up.

"I'm not going back."

There was silence as all heads snapped to her. It was only a matter of time before Harry and Ron dropped out, but nobody expected it of her. Her eyes widened in the realisation of what she had done and her hands flew to her mouth. Harry daringly looked back at Mrs. Weasley. She was gripping the back of her husband's chair and looked like she was about to explode.

"Everybody out of the kitchen now," she whispered. There was a scraping of chairs and a frantic rush to the door. Beware he who is caught in the wrath of Mrs. Weasley.

"Except," she raised her voice slightly and everyone turned round slowly, begging that they were not the exception. She pointed at Ron, Ginny and Harry, all of whom were at the back of the queue, "you three." The others filed past with relief clapping the boys on the shoulder wishing them luck, darting pitying glances to the lone female. Hermione remained steadfast in her place, gripping Ron's hand, determined to be part of this. But one glance from the matriarch caused her to yelp, kiss Ron on the cheek and leave the room. The woman turned on the three in question and began, her voice low and threatening.

"I do not know what on earth has possessed you three. But leaving school? I thought you wanted to make something of your lives. Harry, I'm not your mother, I can't make you go back to school. But I'd advise you not to drop out. I know you're not one to live off a fortune. No matter how substantial it is." She tightened her lips in anticipation of the answer.

Harry went over to her and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Look, Mrs. Weasley. . . Molly. I appreciate everything you've done for me. Truly I do, but I can't go back there. I just can't. I've talked it over with the Minister and everything. He's going to let me on the training program because of my experience. Believe me; I'm staying as far away from my fortune as possible." The woman didn't seem entirely satisfied, but knew it was a losing fight.

So instead, she turned on her son. "You, Ronald, I can forbid. You will go back to school if it's the death of me. What are you going to do? I know you're a third of the Golden Trio, but I doubt you're going to get a job at the Ministry on reputation alone."

"But you can't Mum," he dared. Harry and Ginny were startled. Ron had never spoken back to his mother. Like all the Weasley men, he cowered before her. "I'm of age now. I can make my own decisions. I'm going to work with George at the shop. He's offered me the role of partner. Please Mum." His voice was now desperately pleading with her. Mrs. Weasley remained silent and turned her backs on the boys to face a defiant Ginny.

"You, however, are my daughter and you are only seventeen. Therefore, it remains under my jurisdiction to make you go to school."

"I turn seventeen in like three days though!" Ginny shouted.

"So? That doesn't mean you're an adult! You haven't got enough maturity to make a decision. For goodness sake Ginerva, you're still a child!"

"I lost my childhood a long time ago Mum," she growled under her breath. Mrs. Weasley looked between Harry and her daughter with horror, as did Ron. Harry himself was confused .

"For God's sake guys! Not like that!" she roared, particularly glaring at Harry, "I mean, I was eleven when I was possessed by Riddle, at the age of fourteen I was battling Death Eaters. I grew up just as fast as those three did." The boys were now wincing under power that was the awesome screams of Ginny Weasley. "And I saw the one person I loved most in the entire world dead at my feet!" she started breaking into sobs. Ron glanced at Harry with alarm.

The girl excused herself from the room closely followed by Harry. He shook his head at the other two, knowing he had to do this by himself. But as soon as he strode through the door, he ran into a big crowd of people. At the front of the group stood George, a limp ear hanging on a string from his ears. They all looked on at him in shock, before parting and allowing him to pass.

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry found Ginny sitting on the crooked gate at the end of the front yard. Her face was now dry, but her eyes were still red and puffy from crying. He clambered up beside her, causing the old hinges to creak and the wood underneath them to give slightly. Resting her head on his shoulder, she began to pour her heart out to him, releasing every emotion that had been bottled inside her since May 4th.

"When I saw you there, in Hagrid's arms, it killed me. My heart broke in two. I know I sound like a bitch, but that was the only reason I got a boyfriend. It wasn't because you left me. I know very well why you did that. It was because I couldn't forgive you for one thing. For making me, for making us all believe you were dead."

She looked up at him, fresh tears springing in her eyes.

"Oh, Gin," he sighed, putting his arm around her. "I am so, so sorry for hurting you like that. It was something I had to though. When I went to confront him, only one thing got in my way. It wasn't Ron, Hermione or Neville. It was you. You were the one thing that almost made me turn back. The one thing that allowed me to accept my fate. The one thing that brought me back from the brink of death. Because, Gin, I love you."

She gasped and looked up at him. He bit his lip, now only knowing the full extent if his words. And the truth in them. He leant closer to her face, inhaling that flowery scent he adored so much. She closed her eyes and felt him edge closer. Maybe, just maybe, she loved him. . .

"Ginny?"

The sudden voice shocked them as they sprung apart. She turned her head to the source of the voice.

"Anthony?"

HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP

Harry and Ron were glaring at the new arrival holding Ginny's hand on the other end of the living room. Anthony Goldstein swept his brilliant blonde locks from his face, revealing plump pink cheeks. He was smiling, despite the fact he was being subjected to the Weasley brother's interrogation, each man casting a side-long glance at Harry before questioning, though they did seem to try and catch him out.

"So where were you at the Battle of Hogwarts?" Bill inquired, wincing slightly.

"I was fighting, sir. There was a Death Eater cornering your sister and I managed to scare him away." He grinned and held Ginny closer to him.

"Yeah, but I bet he never faced a Dark Lord," Ron murmured in Harry's ear causing them both to grin. It was true: no heroic act this boy could ever perform would match the countless tasks Ginny herself had carried out.

Bill, deciding he couldn't respond to the boys answer, resigned and sat down, massaging his temples. It must nearly be the full moon. The room was silent for a minute or so until Mrs. Weasley walked through, much more subdued than earlier.

"Come on, kids. We're going to go to Diagon Alley. School or not, you've all shot up at least three inches and need new robes." She looked into the plant pot she was holding with her handbag, and shook it several times upside down. A few minute grains floated down onto her spotless carpet. She sighed, as if this was the final straw.

"Arthur!" she screamed, causing Anthony to jump several feet in the air, "Where is the floo powder refill?!" Arthur's voice sounded from up the stairs.

"In the third drawer from the left in the kitchen dear!" he calmly shouted. Mrs. Weasley's chest was heaving with emotion and she looked like she was about to break down in tears. All of the occupants of the room immediately rushed to embrace her (with the exception of Anthony, who remained glued to the sofa in horror) and she sobbed openly in their arms.

"All my. . . children. . . are growing up," she hiccupped, "Even you two," she gestured towards Harry and Hermione.

Percy gently patted his mother on her back while Charlie was soothingly reassuring her.

"Come on Mum, sit down and have a cup of tea. I'm sure the five kids will be fine on their own. They can always check in on George while they're out." The youngest all nodded enthusiastically. Mrs. Weasley nodded and sniffed, passing the flower pot over to Hermione, magically refilled.

"Well I expect you all back by five or you'll miss dinner," she looked down her nose at them. They all nodded sheepishly before rushing to the fireplace in the kitchen. Five separate WHOOSHs could be heard from the living room

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Harry was hanging back with Ron and Hermione, practically burning a hole in the backs of Anthony and Ginny. Hermione kept clearing her throat, hoping to grab his attention and force him to take the hint, but he was to intent on the entwined hands of the couple before him. Ron let out an exasperated growl as passers-by pointed them all out.

"Look, mate, " but Harry still hadn't noticed. Ron whistled sharply and Harry turned sharply.

"Me and Hermione want some. . . er. . . quality time."

Harry pulled a face but nodded, and left them alone. Ginny and Antony had stopped outside a jewellery shop that was next to Ollivanders, which had re-opened in June. He wondered whether to continue spying on the couple, but his honour won over, and he decided to pop into the store and thank the old man.

"Harry Potter," the familiar voice crooned as the old man stooped towards him, "What brings you here this fine day? Do you need a wand to replace your holly and phoenix feather?"

"No thanks," Harry grinned. He had repaired his beloved wand back in May with the Elder Wand, which was now safely stowed in the Chamber of Secrets. Ollivander nodded knowingly with a twinkle in his eye, but continued shuffling around the store, organising various boxes.

"Actually," said Harry, raising his voice slightly, "I just wanted to pop by and thank you. For everything. And see how you were getting on reopening the store.

"Alas," came the reply from the third set of shelves to the left, "I realised in the past year that I am getting too old for this. So, I am retiring and leaving the store in the capable hands of my great-granddaughter. She is the only member of my darling family who has any talent in wand-lore. Ahh, speak of the devil." He gestured towards the desk, behind which a girl in her early twenties had appeared. She had blonde hair delicately coifed around her jaw and was fiddling with a pencil between blue fingernails. Upon being addressed, she looked up and grinned at him.

"Hey. I guess you must be Harry. Papi has told me so much about you," she looked adoringly at the old man.

"Tristan here was taught in Italy, so she has extensive knowledge in fine-craftsmanship. I'm just showing her the ropes."

"But I've been to this shop every year since I was six. I was the one who gave Randolph Burrow his wand!" The old man shook his head and continued wandering.

"Nice to meet you Tristan," Harry nodded. She nodded back before examining one of the wands from the pile in front of her. Exiting the shop, he yelled a farewell to the backroom and presumed he had a reply.

Climbing onto the first step, he looked around, squinting in the sunlight, only acquiring his eyesight when Ginny and Anthony passed, no longer holding hands and appeared to be arguing.

"Don't you want something a bit girlier? That necklace was nice. Less expansive too," he pleaded, attempting to capture her in a kiss.

"It was pink! That broach was beautiful," she cried.

"But it's for men when they're playing Quidditch, Ginny!"

Neither took any notice of Harry standing on the porch and continued arguing as they walked towards the Leaky Cauldron. He smiled slightly before striding quickly to Gringotts, ducking into corners whenever anybody with a camera appeared within a few feet of him. He made it to the familiar marble steps unscathed, though did have to lose a young reporter shouting "Daily Prophet" after him. He just needed to withdraw some money, and then make a few more stops before returning to the Leaky Cauldron.

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"Mum, you may have gone a bit overboard with the decorations."

Ginny stared in horror at the garden. Numerous round tables were dotted around draped in various cloths, each with a centrepiece of roses, and the balloons. Oh god, the balloons!

They were everywhere in every colour and style imaginable. Pink, gold, blue, polka-dotted, striped, tasselled, balloons that sang happy birthday, balloons that squirted water, flashing and even one which yelled at the top of its voice if anyone approached the punchbowl with alcohol (George found that out the hard way when he came armed with Firewhisky.)

Mrs. Weasley waved off her comment and continued laying food on the buffet table, occasionally tapping an item that looked undercooked.

"Don't be silly sweetie. It's not every day your daughter comes of age. Besides, this is the last chance I'll have to throw a big party before one of you gets married, and looking at your brothers, that thought seems far off."

Ginny chuckled to herself and moved to the pile of presents on the end table. It wasn't of a significant size just yet, with only gifts from her family lying out. It was weird being seventeen. Her brothers had been looking at her differently all day and actually included her in their conversation about the Ministry that morning. Anthony had been bothering her all day. He had visited that morning (on her request) and she had been planning on ending things then and there. But the moment she greeted him, he plunged his tongue in her throat and began fondling her breasts. She was struggling to get him off her, when they were disturbed by none other than Harry putting the rubbish away. He had stared at them gobsmacked for a moment, before quietly retreating back inside, muttering something. All the while, Anthony had his arm protectively around her, glaring at the teen.

Speaking of Harry, Ginny hadn't seen him since the morning. He had disappeared from the house after finding the couple together, and she was growing concerned. But, she supposed, he'd be at the party. He hadn't missed a single Weasley gathering since the age of 11, and her birthday wouldn't be the first.

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"Hermione, I'm not wearing this!" Ginny shouted. Hermione desperately tried to suppress a grin, but Ginny did look ridiculous. The dress she was wearing was a rich emerald green and quite attractive, if it weren't for the rows of thick cream lace running up to the girl's neck and acting as sleeves.

"But it's hideous. I wish I'd taken up Harry on his offer to buy me new robes. This looks like the offspring of Ron's old robes."

Hermione sniggered and began fingering the excess fabric thoughtfully. Her hair had been charmed straight and was wearing a cute yellow sundress that came to her knees.

"Maybe, I could do something about that. . ." and she began murmuring incantations under her breath. Suddenly, all the lace fell torn from the dress, leaving only an edging around the bust. Now nothing could distract from Ginny's curves. She span in front of the mirror, an expression of utter glee on her face.

"Thank you so much Hermione!"she squealed, the dress coming to a rest at her shins. There was a rap at the door and Ron entered hesitantly.

"Are you guys ready?" he asked, covering his eyes, "Just Dad is ready to present Ginny to everyone."

"Yes Ron," Hermione laughed. He moved his hands and grinned sheepishly, but only for a moment before seeing Hermione's dress and was over in two strides. He captured her in his arms and they began kissing. And not sweetly either.

"You prat, Ron," scoffed Ginny, hastily exiting the room, "I don't want to be an aunt on my 17th birthday!" Ron's ears glowed pink and he dragged his girlfriend out by the elbow.

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The party was approaching its end and everyone was gathered round the mountain of presents. The night had been a complete success. When Ginny was led down the stairs by her father, everyone gasped. She had grown so much and was now a beautiful young woman. She had made the rounds at the party, greeting nearly every Hogwarts student she knew, though the red-heads far outnumbered them, with Weasleys close and separated alike. But there wasn't any sign of Harry.

When the music from the wireless began to play, Anthony pulled her on the dance floor and continued the show that was interrupted earlier. But this time, she was ready for it. She landed a fist square in his jaw, and the couple was shortly joined by all five brothers. Needless to say, Anthony left the party a bit worse for wear and was met with angry glares as he left sombrely through the creaky wooden gate.

"And by the way, we're through!" she had shouted after him. To the surprise of many, the girl's spirit was lifted for the rest of the party and she began to really enjoy herself. The screaming balloon shouted off at least five people, including a very red Seamus Finnegan who was laughed off by the alumni Gryffindors. By the time she sat at the gift table, Ginny was incredibly worn out and took the time to retie her bun while waiting for the rest of the guests to gather round.

The presents received were quite a stash. From the Patil sisters and Lavender, she had gotten make-up, from Seamus she had gotten a case of Firewhisky (much to the disapproval of Mrs. Weasley,) a new crystal watch from the entire Weasley family and a new broom from Bill and Fleur. Hermione snuck her present under the table and Ginny peaked under the lid. All she saw was lace, but immediately closed the lid, blushing, Hermione and the Gryffindor girls giggling.

The pile slowly became a heap of paper until there was one small present left over, clearly the first on the table. She picked it up and examined it closely. It was wrapped in pastel pink paper with a petite bow in one corner. Ginny lifted the tag which read simply, 'Yours, Harry.' Looking around the group, she saw everyone else was just as puzzled as she was, each person exchanging a glance with another. Finally, her curiosity got the better of her and she carefully tore the paper, revealing a deep crimson box. Her breath caught in her throat as she slowly undid the clasp, allowing the box to open.

The entire crowd gasped. Inside, was a small silver robe broach, florally decorated with two initials engraved in the centre, '_H G_' She span the clasp round in her hand noticing another impression saying, _'You will always have my heart.'_Tears began welling up in her chocolate eyes as they darted across the entire group.

"Where's Harry?" she whispered quietly. Everyone shifted awkwardly on the spot.

"WHERE'S HARRY!!!!?' she screamed loudly. Hermione swept beside her and laid a careful hand on her leg.

"Look, Ginny. . . "

"Where is he?" she questioned, gasping between sobs.

"He's gone."

**A/N Oh dear, what have I done? Did I use another ****cliffhanger**** :P**** I sacrificed my Macbeth essay. Oh well. Do you know the way you could show your appreciation? Review :D **


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